The Sheikh's Wedding Contract

by Andie Brock

  ‘Well, if he is in Harith it could make things very difficult for you. The more ammunition Harith have to use against Gazbiyaa, the more dangerous the situation becomes. My advice would be to find a diplomatic solution as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Come, dear.’ Salema stretched out an arm to Nadia. ‘This is our cue to leave the men to their business. Shall we take our tea in the salon?’

  ‘Actually, I would like to hear this conversation.’ Nadia gave a small cough, blatantly ignoring the don’t-you-dare-go-there vibes that were zinging her way from Zayed. ‘How can you reach a diplomatic solution when the two countries refuse to communicate with one another?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Leaning forward, Hassan linked his fingers and rested his chin on them, regarding her speculatively. ‘And how would you suggest that problem could be solved?’

  ‘I’m sure she has no idea, do you, Nadia?’ Zayed bit out her name through gritted teeth.

  ‘I do have an idea, actually. I think the solution would be for both sides to sit round a table together and decide to end this conflict. The problems and grievances need to be thrashed out verbally, and I don’t mean with chest beating and threats of war, I mean talked through logically and sensibly. There would need to be a mediator there to ensure fairness, but, more important, the very best advisors should be utilised to help find ways to achieve lasting peace. And by that I don’t mean government bureaucrats sitting in their lofty towers... No offence...’

  ‘None taken.’ Hassan bit back a smile. ‘Go on—what sort of advisors do you have in mind?’

  ‘People who know the situation, preferably from both sides, people who really understand the hearts and minds of the two kingdoms and who are committed to peace. Who can persuade both nations to put aside their pride and channel that energy into building a positive relationship between Gazbiyaa and Harith, both now and in the future.’

  Speech done, Nadia sat back in her chair, her cheeks flushed, her heart hammering in her chest. The table around her seemed to have gone very quiet, the only noise being her own blood roaring in her ears.

  Finally the silence was broken by a slow handclap by Hassan, followed by a hearty guffaw. ‘Well said, young lady.’ He turned to Zayed, who appeared to have been struck frighteningly dumb. ‘This is some wife you have found yourself here, Zayed—beauty and brains and a fighting spirit, as well. You are a lucky man.’

  ‘Aren’t I just?’ The gritted teeth had turned to full-on lockjaw, the sheer force of his hostility dragging Nadia’s gaze from where it had settled in her lap up to his murderous, blazing brown eyes. Nadia blinked against their force, and looked away again, suddenly finding the gold bracelet around her wrist unusually fascinating. ‘She’s certainly full of surprises.’

  ‘Forgive me, Salema.’ Nadia hastily turned to her companion. ‘I am keeping us from our tea.’ Suddenly she couldn’t get away from the table, away from Zayed, fast enough. She rose to standing and the others followed suit. Taking Salema’s arm, she started to guide her from the room.

  ‘Have I said what a lovely colour your dress is?’ She could feel Zayed’s eyes burning a hole into the back of her head. ‘Such a pretty blue.’

  * * *

  ‘What the hell was all that about?’

  With a sharp rap on the door, Zayed had come storming into Nadia’s bedroom, which was positioned at the far end of their private suite, about as far away from his own room as possible. He had brought his cloud of fury with him.

  ‘Did I not make it clear to you, only today, that under no circumstances were you to speak about Harith?’ His rant had carried him to the middle of the room where he stopped with his hands on his hips, his breathing heavy. Nadia was seated at the dressing table, wearing a satin camisole-and-shorts set, her hairbrush held in the air, mid-stroke. The sight of her did nothing to ease his breathing.

  ‘You do know that thanks to your little outburst Rouhani is going to work out who you are, where you are from? It was bad enough drawing attention to yourself with that choking episode, but then to subject us all to your half-baked opinions of how to solve the problem of Harith...’ His jaw worked forcibly. ‘Why didn’t you just hold up a sign, Nadia? One with a big arrow saying, “Look at me, I’m from Harith”.’

  ‘If I may finally be allowed to say something.’ The hairbrush was being pointed at him like a weapon as she swung herself round on the wooden stool, lifting her buttocks to free the skimpy bit of satin fabric that hadn’t turned with her. Zayed swallowed hard.

  ‘First, it was hardly my fault that I choked on a sip of water. It wasn’t as though I did it on purpose. And second, why shouldn’t I speak out, put forward some ideas? Somebody needs to do something.’

  ‘I am dealing with it, Nadia,’ Zayed growled, struggling to rein in his temper. ‘You “speaking out”, as you put it, is only increasing the pressure, increasing the danger, making my job all the more hellishly difficult. Why can’t you see that?’

  ‘So you are dealing with it, are you? And exactly what progress are you making?’

  ‘I am not accountable to you, young lady.’ The blood in his veins was heating up, nearing boiling point. How dare she start cross-examining him when she had been the one who had escalated the crisis—who seemed to be intent on putting them in even more danger? How dare she even look like that, her scantily clad body twisted round to glare at him, all soft skin and lithe limbs, the satin shorts pulled tight over her crossed thighs, disappearing between her legs? ‘Your part of the deal, since you seem to have forgotten, is to be the adoring sheikha, keep a low profile, and, most important, keep quiet.’ The last word was snapped at her through clenched teeth.

  ‘But the quieter I keep, the more loudly I can hear the sabre rattling on both sides.’ The hairbrush was now being waved at him for emphasis. ‘Something has to be done, Zayed, right away, before the blood of our young men is spilled.’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that?’ His temper had taken him several steps towards her so that he was now before her, looking down with fire burning in his eyes. ‘Don’t you think I am doing everything in my power to prevent that, to make sure it doesn’t happen?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘What?’

  Nadia banged the hairbrush back down on the dressing table. Then, raising herself to standing, she pushed back her shoulders.

  ‘I said I don’t think that you are doing everything you can to bring about peace.’ Her voice was calm and controlled but there was a tremor there, too. There was no doubt how much this meant to her. ‘You are so busy setting up meetings with the great and the good that you can’t see what is right in front of you.’ She stamped a small bare foot down to the floor to make her point.

  Zayed could see exactly what was right in front of him. He was struggling to control the waves of undiluted lust it was causing.

  Before him stood the most beautiful young woman he had ever known, lustrous black hair falling in waves around her shoulders, bright eyes flashing and cheeks flushed with passionate self-righteousness. One thin strap of the flimsy top she was wearing had slipped down, and try as he might Zayed couldn’t stop his eyes from travelling to the swell of her breasts, from lingering at the sight of the erect nipples beneath the satin fabric. Try as he might he couldn’t stop the throb of arousal in his groin.

  ‘Because I am the best advisor you are ever going to find!’ If Nadia had noticed the effect she was having on him she didn’t show it, too caught up in the conviction of her beliefs. ‘I know more about Harith than any of these so-called experts that you are wasting your time talking to. If only you would stop behaving like a chauvinistic, sexist pig, stop blaming me for everything and start listening to what I have to say, together we might find a solution.’

  ‘Okay, that’s enough! This conversation is over.’ Zayed took a step away, needing to find the space and control to fight the twin battles Nadia was waging: one severely testing his patience, the other his rampant masculinity.

  It was the lat
ter that was screaming at him to sweep this arrogant, insubordinate young woman off her stamping feet, cross the few steps to her bed, lay her down and make love to her. And once that idea had formed in his head it had very quickly spread to his lower regions where it firmly, very firmly refused to go away.

  Mentally he was on top of her, looking down at her luscious body, sliding his hand down to those flimsy satin shorts and pulling them down over her hips. Or maybe leaving them on, pushing the leg of the shorts to one side so that he had access to that most intimate part of her body with his fingers, then swapping his fingers for the throbbing member that was straining against his suit trousers right now, positioning himself so that he could lower down onto her, thrust into her, feel the mixture of her dampness, the soft skin and the coarser hair and the satin fabric rubbing between them.

  Hell! Furious with himself, Zayed turned and took several long strides towards the door. What ever was the matter with him? This woman was totally off-limits and yet he was behaving like a hormone-raging teenager.

  ‘Don’t you dare walk away from me.’

  Nadia’s imperious voice halted his step, and he half turned to look at her over his shoulder.

  ‘Quite the little princess, aren’t we?’ His voice was sharp, eyes glittering coldly. ‘Stamping your feet and telling me what to do. You are not in Harith now, Nadia. I’m not one of your minions that you can order around. When you made the decision to come here to “claim” me for your husband, you forwent that privilege. Perhaps I should remind you that you are my wife now, on paper at least, and as such you will do as I say, not the other way round. From the moment you signed that marriage certificate you became my—’

  ‘What?’ Nadia had darted round in front of him, blocking his exit, all flushed cheeks, tousled hair and flashing eyes. ‘Go on, say it. I became your property. That’s what you were about to say, wasn’t it? That I belong to you. I am just another one of your possessions in the same way women have been treated for generations by both your family and mine. How could I have deluded myself that you were any different?’

  ‘I was actually going to say you became my responsibility.’ Nadia blinked back at him, momentarily wrong-footed. ‘But if we are dealing with home truths maybe I should come up with a better word. You became a liability, Nadia, that’s what. A dangerous liability.’

  He watched as she bit down on the pout of her lower lip, her pearly white teeth nipping into its luscious pink softness as she fought to control the tremble his words had produced. Suddenly the sight of her, in all her vulnerable, fiery sexiness, unwittingly tormenting him in that scrap of an outfit, was too much for him. He had to get away. Now. Before he did something he would seriously regret.

  Purposefully moving past her, he reached the safety of the doorway, willing himself to keep walking. Never before had he felt temptation like this.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘I HAD AN email from Hassan Rouhani this morning.’

  Zayed had waited for the two staff who were serving their food to leave before he spoke. He and Nadia were sitting at the small round table in the informal dining room, something they did most evenings in an effort to keep up the pretence of the happily married couple. Tonight that effort was doubly difficult with last night’s heated confrontation still smarting between them.

  Nadia had not seen Zayed all day, as per usual, and with nothing to do except reflect on her ‘little outburst’ of the night before, as Zayed had so furiously labelled it, she had started to wonder if maybe he was right, maybe she had made things worse by speaking out. It looked as if she was about to find out.

  ‘What did he say?’ She laid down her knife and fork, her appetite for the sayadieh samak, the delicious-smelling baked fish and rice on her plate, suddenly vanishing.

  ‘Oh, glowing praise.’ He levelled those deep brown eyes at her. ‘For you, that is. Positively gushing with congratulations that I have managed to find myself such a charming and intelligent wife.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Nadia would have loved to savour this morsel of victory, but Zayed’s tone, his unspoken if only he knew, was robbing her of any triumph. She tried shooting him a meaningful glance instead. ‘It’s nice that someone appreciates me.’

  ‘Isn’t it just?’

  Nadia lowered her eyes to the safety of her plate. ‘Did he say anything else?’ She casually picked up her fork again.

  ‘If you mean did he say he knows who you are, then no. But don’t think that lets you off the hook. Rouhani is a clever man—he may well have decided there is no benefit in showing his hand, or maybe he’s going to do some more investigation. Either way, what you said last night was totally irresponsible.’

  Nadia sighed. Did this man never take a break from telling her off? ‘Well, I liked him.’

  ‘How nice. Perhaps you should start a mutual admiration society.’

  She let her gaze flick back to him, surprised by what sounded almost like jealousy. No, she instantly dismissed that thought. That would be ridiculous.

  ‘Did Hassan say any more about Azeed? Do you really think he is in Harith?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Zayed concentrated on his meal.

  ‘So he has refused to have any contact with you?’

  ‘That is correct.’ Now he scowled. Perhaps Nadia would like him to pass the salt so she could rub it directly into the wound. ‘Are you intending to eat anything this evening or just ask a lot of annoying questions?’

  ‘That must be hard for you.’ Nadia deliberately ignored him. ‘To have your brother cut you out of his life through no fault of your own.’ He replied with a wall of silence but still she persevered. ‘Were you close—growing up, I mean?’

  ‘Not especially.’ Finally Zayed raised his eyes to look at her. It seemed she wasn’t going to give up, determined to turn over the stones to expose his weaknesses and failures. He hardened his voice. ‘Our upbringing was very different. Azeed was educated here in Gazbiyaa, groomed all his life for the role of sheikh, whereas I was sent to boarding school in England. As the second son I had much more freedom. I was able to pursue my own career, control my own destiny. Until now, that is.’

  He stopped abruptly. He could see Nadia assimilating the information, her beautiful head tilted to one side, her amethyst-coloured eyes perceptive and alert. He already regretted the emphasis he had put on his last few words. He knew she was never going to let that go. And he was right.

  ‘But now you are the sheikh of Gazbiyaa.’ Her eyes took on the challenge. ‘Surely there can be no greater honour than to be ruler of your kingdom?’

  ‘But that honour comes at a price.’

  ‘You mean your relationship with your brother?’

  ‘Well, partly that.’ Guiltily Zayed realised he was only just beginning to recognise how much that rift hurt. He found himself increasingly mourning the loss of Azeed, both the brother he had never really known when they were young and the brother who had now cut him out of his life. He was also all too aware that he hadn’t been able to fulfil his mother’s dying wish, either, and that lay heavily in his heart. But how was he supposed to make her peace with Azeed if Azeed refused to have anything to do with him?

  ‘But I actually meant the price of giving up the life I had made for myself. Giving up everything I had worked for.’

  He knew from the beat of silence that Nadia was ready to pounce again.

  ‘Is that not a small sacrifice to pay?’

  ‘No, not so small, actually.’ Irritation prickled his skin. He was not going to let Nadia belittle him. ‘I have built up an extremely successful business facilitating numerous multibillion-dollar takeovers over the years. That’s not something that just happens, you know. That takes hard work and determination. It takes investment, and by that I mean commitment and energy. I am very proud of what I have achieved.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ Nadia’s small words, along with the briefly raised brows, perfectly conveyed just what she thought of his achievements. Which only served to turn up the
heat in Zayed’s blood even more. Somehow she always managed to do this to him, to creep under his defences to make him justify himself. To make him care. ‘But now you have the greater pride of being the sheikh of Gazbiyaa.’

  ‘Yes.’ Zayed put his knife and fork together and touched his napkin to his lips. ‘Yes, I do.’ With a sigh of frustration he realised he was never going to convince Nadia that his past life had any worth—he might as well give up now. In fact, he had no idea why he was persevering. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her that pride had been the last thing he’d felt when he’d discovered he was to be crowned sheikh of Gazbiyaa. Shock, disbelief, horror even, had all ranked much higher on his list of emotions.

  If he was honest, he knew he was still struggling to come to terms with the enormous change to his life, the crushing weight of the crown. His duty to his country was absolute, his commitment without question, but it was a duty and commitment that threatened to drain his spirit, eat into his soul.

  And his marriage to Nadia had only made things a hundred times worse, turning a difficult situation into one that was almost intolerable. If he had inherited a simmering cauldron of oil, she had gone and chucked a bucket of water into it. Which now left him hissing with frustration.

  Faced with his fury, Zayed had to admit that it wasn’t just their marriage and its possible repercussions that fired him up, although that was bad enough. More worryingly, it was the presence of Nadia herself. The person she was, the way she affected him, the conflicting reactions she provoked. There was bitterness for the way she had deceived him; anger, too, for letting himself be fooled by her. Then there was the enormous sense of responsibility he felt for her and, even though that shocked him with its primeval strength, that was nothing compared to his most shocking reaction of all. Desire. Or to put it another way, the gut-wrenching, fly-busting, all-consuming lust. Which he was finding harder and harder to conceal from her and deny to himself. But that didn’t mean he would stop trying. He hardened his voice.